


Stormilton: an OC AU

by brieflyshypuppy



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Lego Ninjago, Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, OCs - Hamilton AU, Unrequited Love, in act one all the alcohol is replaced with sugar and caffiene, you'll see ;) - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-14 00:10:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15376425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brieflyshypuppy/pseuds/brieflyshypuppy
Summary: Brielexander Stormilton was born and raised on an island in the Caribbean, and left to pursue an education in America. There, she met Damien Burr, and was introduced to the revolution. With friends like George Woldshington, John Blurens, Hercules Moppigan, Marquis de Woofayette, and the Schuyler Siblings, what’s the betting they can face Queen Hat’s tyrannical-yet-fashionable rule?





	1. Chapter 1

_ My Dearest Brielexander, _ __   
__   
_ You sound so excited in your letters! I am so glad to hear that Princeton suits you.  _ __   
__   
_ Things have certainly been much quieter since you left. The trader you worked for after dear Zarina’s death has become about the richest business on the island, thanks to your systems! Borg was kind enough to help Sen and Misako and I out of a small bit of financial trouble a few weeks ago. Worry not, dear sister; it’s all been taken care of. He said it was the least he could do for your family.  _ __   
__   
_ My Brielexander, how your niblings miss you! Lloyd bids me to ask you when you will return. I told him you likely won’t, but then again, you are full of surprises. Isabelle is growing up so fast. As I am sure you know, she recently turned sixteen. Already, both boys and girls all around the island are tripping over themselves to win her praise, but Ronin does his best to keep them all at bay. He got into a fight with an older man whose intentions with Isabelle were less than pure, but Ronin is just fine. The other man, less so.  _ __   


_ Ronin actually seems to have been quite inspired by you. He and Kyoko got into trouble last week for freeing a shipment full of slaves. I have never been prouder of my children.  _ __   
__   
_ Isabelle’s mother recently passed away, and we have taken in her other child, Sam.  He and Lloyd have caught on like a house on fire. I have to keep finding new places to hide all the sweets, otherwise they eat them all! _ __   
__   
_ We all miss you so much, my Brielexander. Don’t forget about us when you make it big in America! _ __   
__   
_ With love, your sister, _ __   
_   
_ __ Rosetta Stormilton-Montgomery-Garmadon

*******

Brielexander Stormilton glanced over her shoulder. She could have sworn she’d seen that guy before, and Brielexander never forgot a name or a face. The guy pretended not to notice her, but every time she looked back he was there.

She decided to ignore him for now, but kept her hand in the pocket of her coat, fingers wrapped around the knife she kept there.

Her eyes roamed the crowded street. She went over defense tactics in her head.  Creepy guy following me, find an older lady and pretend she’s my aunt.  She glanced over her shoulder again. He was still there, and closer than she was comfortable with. She recognized him now; he’d been her client once in the Caribbean. Even worse than a stranger. She was about to go up to a lady with a large feathered hat when she saw someone else who might be able to help.

She speed-walked forward and looped her arm through his. “Pardon me, are you Damien Burr, sir?”

The guy looked down at her, startled. “That depends. Who’s asking?”

“Someone who really needs help getting away from… an ex.” She kept up her fake smile. “Are you?”

Burr sighed. “Yes, I am. Once again, who’s asking?”

“Brielexander Stormilton. Nice to meet you.” She looked over her shoulder again as they continued walking. Ex-client was nowhere to be seen.

“Sure, nice to meet you too.” Burr raised an eyebrow at her. “Might I ask why you decided to seek me out?”

Right, she’d been looking for him before she’d noticed she was being followed. “Oh yeah. I heard your name at Princeton. I wanted to go through an accelerated course of study, but I  _ may or may not  _ have punched the person who would have been able to help me.” She grinned sheepishly. “I’ve been told I have a bit of a temper. I wanted to graduate early so I could join the revolution.”

“Okay.” Burr seemed unfazed. “Why did you punch them, might I ask?”

  
“Because he kept talking down at me.” Brielexander huffed. “He treated me like I was stupid, which I’m definitely not. So, how exactly did  _ you  _ graduate so fast?”

Now he seemed slightly uncomfortable. “It was my parents’ dying wish to see me graduate. So I got into the accelerated program and worked my tail off to graduate before they died.”

She looked up at him. “You’re an orphan?”

“...yes.”

“I see. One thing we have in common, apparently.” Brielexander watched as a redcoat bullied a shopkeeper into giving up her day’s earnings, and gripped tighter to Burr’s arm to keep herself from storming up and stabbing the soldier. “I wish there  _ was  _ a war. Then we could prove that we’re worth more than anyone bargained for.”

Maybe it was Brielexander’s imagination, but Burr had a trace of a smile on his face. “Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, gesturing to a nearby tavern.

Brielexander grinned slightly. “That would be nice.”

They went inside. Burr signaled the bartender, and she set down a pair of bright turquoise sodas in front of them. “While we’re talking,” said Burr, “let me offer you some free advice -- talk less.”

That certainly hadn’t been what Brielexander was expecting. “What?”

“Smile more.” As if to demonstrate, Burr gave her a smile. “Don’t let them know what you’re against or what you’re for.”

Brielexander stared at him. “You can’t be serious.”

Burr shrugged and took a sip of his drink. “You want to get ahead?”

“...yes.”

“Fools who run their mouths tend to wind up dead.”

Brielexander mulled that over and sipped her own drink. Non-alcoholic, and tasted like a really sugary lime. It didn’t seem like it had as much caffeine as coffee, but she could definitely sense that there was a lot of it.

At another table, she saw a group of three with the same drinks, but they had obviously had much more caffeine. They were starting to get very loud and giggly. One was tall, with wild green hair; one was shorter with long red hair tied back with a bandanna; the last had her hair up in a brown ponytail tucked into a baseball cap. From what Brie could hear, they were talking about the revolution and fighting the British.

“Like I said.” Burr nodded in their direction. 

This seemed to get their attention. “Well, if it ain’t the prodigy of Princeton college!” exclaimed Baseball Cap.

“Damien Burr!” said Bandana. “Drop some knowledge!”

Burr rolled his eyes. “I think I’ll pass for now,” he said. 

The other three booed. “Come on, Burr!” Baseball Cap slid into the seat next to him and elbowed his arm. “The revolution’s coming! Why stall?”

“Those who stand for nothing, Burr, fall for everything.” Brielexander took another sip of her drink. 

The other three heads snapped around to look at her. “I like you,” Baseball Cap decided. “Who are you?”

Brielexander grinned slightly. “Brielexander Stormilton.”

“She went to Princeton, too,” said Burr. “She sought me out to figure out how to graduate early.”

  
“I  _ can  _ speak for myself, Burr,” Brielexander said, setting down her drink. “I’m looking to join the revolution. I know an opportunity when I see one.” She looked up at the four people in front of her and smiled. “And I am  _ not  _ throwing away my shot.”

*******

  
_ My dearest Rosetta, _ __   
__   
_ I certainly was not the one who taught Ronin to pick the shackle locks, no matter what he says. Tell Lloyd that I will try to visit once I’m more stable, and tell Isabelle that girls are much better lovers than boys. I’m not sorry to hear about Joy, but do hope Sam is doing alright, though I know all your children do. I enclosed a recipe for Misako; raisin scones to keep at the top of the sweets jar to discourage thievery from the smaller boys.  _ __   
__   
_ I most unfortunately was not invited back to Princeton next school year. However, I do not let this dishearten me, for I have received a scholarship for King’s College! Not only that, but I have made the acquaintance of one Damien Burr, whose name I heard mentioned at Princeton. I had hoped he would advise me how best to graduate early, but unfortunately all he had to say was that I talk too much.  _ __   
__   
_ On the same day, I was introduced to a trio of new friends. First is John Blurens, an abolitionist from South Carolina. She and I have become fast friends due to our similar opinion on the subhuman practice that is slavery. She found my efforts to free those in the trade admirable. Next is Hercules Moppigan, a tailor’s apprentice. She has used her position to spy on the British as they come to her shop to have their uniforms tailored. Unfortunately, she does not yet have the social standing to report her findings. Then there is Marquis de Woofayette. They are a former baron from France; the two of us have had full conversations in French about the state of the monarchies in Europe. We have to speak in French because our talk of politics bores Blurens and Moppigan.  _ __   
__   
_ Tensions are running high here, and I believe war is imminent. However, do not worry, dear sister. You know I am far too smart to go into the thick of the fighting. When the British attack, they will come for trading ports, so please be safe. They’ve already hit Boston hard after the “tea party” incident. Fortunately, New York seems safe, for now.  _ __   
__   
_ I miss you all, too. I could never forget you, no matter how many new friends I make.  _ __   
_   
_ _ With love, your sister, _ _   
_ _   
_ __ Brielexander Stormilton


	2. Chapter 2

_ Dear Burr, _

 

_ How did you get my address? Stop sending me letters. _

 

_ Sincerely, _

 

_ Cornelius Schuyler _

 

*******

 

Damien slipped out of the tavern as Brielexander acquainted herself with Moppigan, Blurens, and Woofayette. They were all drinking a whole lot of Baja Blast, and were starting to get loud and hyper. He really just wanted to get out of there before they started singing. 

 

He breathed in the warm summer air. There really was nothing like summer in the city. Damien leaned on a nearby wall and watched the people going by. Across the way, he could see one of his old acquaintance Cornelius Schuyler, with his siblings Leola and Lefty. Cornelius caught Damien’s eye and scowled, subtly flipping him off out of view of his siblings. 

 

Damien shrugged and took that as a cue to make himself sparse, leaving the Schuyler siblings to whatever they were doing. He went back inside the tavern. 

 

_ Oh no. _ The first thing that Damien noticed was that Brielexander was nowhere to be found. Despite having only known her for an hour at most, Damien had already assessed that Brielexander Stormilton should not, under any circumstances, be left unsupervised. Especially not while involved with the equally reckless John Blurens, Marquis de Woofayette, and Hercules Moppigan — though to be fair, Moppigan was slightly more responsible than the rest of them. Damien sighed and went back outside to find them. 

 

Thankfully, he caught up to them easily, as Woofayette’s hair was bright green and difficult to miss. 

 

The four of them had apparently made their way to the square, where Samuel Neobury was reading from his newest pamphlet. From the looks of it, Damien had arrived just in time to stop Brielexander from going up to debate with Neobury. 

 

Damien grabbed her arm. “Let him be,” he warned as Neobury continued. 

 

Brielexander shot him a glare. “Don’t tell me what to do, Burr,” she said, yanking her arm out of his grip. Before he could stop her, she marched right up to Neobury and started arguing with him. 

 

Damien sighed and facepalmed. 

 

“Oh, lighten up,  _ mon ami _ ,” said Woofayette, nudging him with their elbow. “She is a natural speaker.”

 

“Is she a natural shut-up-er?” Damien said, raising an eyebrow at the Frenchman. 

 

Woofayette only grinned. 

 

Neobury and Brielexander started talking louder, each trying to be heard over the other. “Well, why should a tiny island across the sea regulate the price of tea?” Stormilton demanded, looking about ready to fight. 

 

Damien had had enough. Before things could get violent, he hoisted Brielexander over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift. “Brielexander, please,” he said. 

 

“Oh, come on, Burr, I could have taken him!” she said, seemingly unfazed at suddenly being carried away. 

 

“He’s half a foot taller than you and a farmer, Brielexander. You’d have gotten your butt kicked.”

 

“That’s just what  _ you _ think. Besides, I’d rather be divisive than indecisive. Why don’t you drop the nicet-- hey!”

 

A pair of redcoats shoved past them, sending Damien and Brielexander to the ground and turning them into a tangled mess of limbs and fabric. 

 

“Ow.” Damien rubbed the top of his head. “Brielexander, are you alright?”

 

“I’m fine,” she said. She had a bloody nose from having fallen on her face. 

 

“No you’re not. Come on, I’ll help you get cleaned up.” Damien pulled her to her feet and ushered her out of the crowd.

 

He’d known her for maybe two hours, and in that time she’d almost started at least one fight, not to mention whatever shenanigans she had gotten into with Blurens, Moppigan, and Woofayette. With the war about ready to start, there was no way Damien was letting her out of his sight. Especially since from what she’d said, she had no one in the city.

 

Damien brought her back to his house to clean up the blood on her face. The eyes staring up at him were like emeralds -- deep green, and just as sparkly. Freckles dotted her face like stars in the sky. As he cleaned off the blood that had dripped down her chin, he noticed a thin scar across her throat that he knew better than to ask about.

 

“Thank you,” said Brielexander as Damien wiped the last of the blood off her face. “You didn’t have to help me, but you did.”

 

He shrugged. “I wasn’t about to let you pick a fight with someone bigger than you.”

 

“But then I wouldn’t be able to fight anyone,” she complained. “Also, not quite what I’m talking about. I was referring to earlier, when I needed to get away from my ex.”

 

“Oh, that.” Damien’s eyes briefly flicked to the scar on her neck. He didn’t know what to say. “Do you… want to talk about it?” he asked awkwardly.

 

“Absolutely not.” Brielexander’s answer was immediate. “I’d very much like to never speak of it again. I just wanted to thank you.”

 

She hopped off the table where Damien had had her sit. “So, thank you for helping me keep safe, and thanks for the advice.”

 

“Talk less, smile more.” He patted her shoulder. “Although you do seem to have a way with words. Maybe you should write pamphlets.”

 

“I don’t think my writing would be concise enough for pamphlets,” she said. “But still, thanks. It was nice to meet you.”

 

“You too.” He surprised himself, realizing he meant it. “Good luck, Brielexander.”

 

“You too, Burr.” She shook his hand and left. Her hair caught the late afternoon sunlight, turning it copper. Damien watched through the door as she met back up with John Blurens.

 

_ Nope. Don’t do it, Burr. She’ll be fine.  _

 

He sighed to himself. “Stormilton, wait up!”

 

***

 

_ Dear Cornelius, _

 

_ Literally all I wrote was to ask if you had met Brielexander Stormilton at Princeton. Stop being a baby. _

 

_ To answer your question, your sibling Lefty gave me your address. They seem to think we have “unresolved tension.” I don’t know what they meant by that, but whatever. _

 

_ I’ll stop sending you letters when you answer my question, as I met Brielexander last week and she seems to be your type. _

 

_ Sincerely,  _

 

_ Damien Burr _


	3. Chapter 3

_ Your Majesty, _

 

_ Multiple rebellions have sprung up in the American colonies. What are your orders? _

 

_ General Amanda Howe _

 

***

 

Dusty violet eyes scanned the letter in her hands, and the map on the table before her. Her troops were represented by little red flags; the American strongholds in blue. They’d certainly been giving her trouble, but Queen Hat didn’t view the rebellion as any more than a nuisance.

 

“Bring me a pen and paper,” she ordered a nearby servant. Said servant nodded and scurried off.

 

The queen tossed the letter over her shoulder and moved more red flags closer to the blue, towards where New York City was represented on the map. These colonies needed convincing that what she did, she did for the betterment of her kingdom. And if some rebels had to die reminding the rest of the colonies’ residents, so be it.

 

The servant returned with a feathered pen and a roll of parchment. Queen Hat adjusted her blood red cloak and sat on her throne to write her reply.

 

***

 

_ General Howe, _

 

_ These rebels are no more than dirt beneath your feet. I am sending an additional 12,000 troops. I expect you to wipe out the rebels and destroy them all. _

 

_ Her Majesty the Queen, _

 

_ Hatter Nott _

 

***

 

_ Dear Brielexander, _

 

_ I’m going upstate for business. Don’t do anything stupid. _

 

_ Sincerely, _

 

_ Damien Burr _

 

***

 

Brielexander dove behind a wall as the gunfire cracked across the square. “Blurens, you okay?”

 

Blurens gritted her teeth. “I’ve been better,” she said, shooting a redcoat who came too close. “You?”

 

“More or less the same,” Brielexander answered. “Moppigan, Woofayette?”

 

Woofayette shook out their hair -- purple today -- and several bits of debris fell out. They let loose a string of French that Brielexander decided not to translate for the others.

 

Moppigan peered around the wall. “They’ve got two cannons and a lot of guns,” she said. “Way more than we do. We need to retreat.”

 

Brielexander looked around the wall. “Or do we?” she said. “What if they didn’t have those cannons?”

 

“Stormilton, didn’t Burr tell you not to be an idiot?” said Moppigan, giving Brielexander a look.

 

“Yeah, but he’s not here right now. Besides, he can’t tell me what to do.”

 

“Aw,  _ ton petit ami  _ is just looking out for you,” said Woofayette.

 

“For the last time, Woofayette, Burr is not  _ mon petit ami _ ,” Brielexander said. “He’s annoying, that’s what he is.”

 

“Surely you see the way he --”

 

“Woofayette if you don’t shut up about me and Burr I’m going to Woofayeet you right into the British,” Brielexander snapped. She huffed. “Blurens, Woofayette, keep the redcoats in the same place. Moppigan, you’re with me. We’re stealing their cannons.”

 

The other three nodded. Brielexander and Moppigan snuck off on the other side of the wall. “Isn’t Blurens sneakier than I am? Why not steal cannons with her?” Moppigan whispered.

 

“Mop, you’re plenty sneaky,” Brielexander replied. “You’ve been spying on the British for years.”

 

“Yeah, but that’s different from actual, physical sneaking,” said Moppigan. “Spying is --”

 

“Shh!” Brielexander held out an arm. “On three. One, two --”

 

She and Moppigan rushed out, each grabbing a cannon and rolling them as fast as they could to the other side of the square. “In hindsight this was a terrible idea!” Brielexander yelled as the British soldiers started shooting at them.

 

“You think?!” yelled Moppigan. Screaming, the two of them went back behind the wall, miraculously unscathed. 

 

“You actually got them!” Blurens said. 

 

“ _ Bon travail, mes amis! _ ” Woofayette exclaimed. “Great job!”

 

“That was a terrible, stupid idea, but hey, it worked!” said Brielexander. “Now let’s get out of here!” 

 

“Hang on,” said Blu, loading one of the cannons. She fired it over the section of wall that made the top of the doorframe, blocking the path with a pile of rubble. “ _ Now _ let’s go.”

 

The four of them wheeled the cannons as fast as possible out of the thick of the action, back towards the American troops. “We’re never doing that again!” yelled Moppigan. “Stormilton, you’re crazy!”

 

“Hey, it worked, didn’t it?”

 

***

 

_ Dear Damien, _

 

_ Define stupid. _

 

_ Sincerely, _

 

_ Brielexander Stormilton _

 

***

 

_ Brielexander, _

 

_ I swear, if you managed to get yourself hurt in the THREE DAYS I’ve been gone, I will PERSONALLY buy you passage back to your old home in the Caribbean for the remainder of the war. _

 

_ Seriously, don’t do anything stupid, rash, irresponsible, or any of those synonyms. Just keep your head down and your mouth shut, and stay alive until I come back next week. _

 

_ Sincerely, _

 

_ Damien Burr _

 

***

 

George Woldshington was a woman of average height and build, with a not-so-average reputation. As the General of the American Army, she had to look strong for her soldiers. Not that she was doing a good job of being strong at the moment. 

 

Woldshington and some of her officers had set up shop in New Jersey, after Thaliadosia Prevost had been kind enough to let them use her house as a base of operations while her husband was down south in Georgia. It was close enough to the fighting to be a sufficient base, but far enough away not to be suspicious. There wasn’t a lot of time for Woldshington to ever relax with the war going on, if there ever was any time at all. She looked at her map and sighed. The British troops were marked in red, her own soldiers in blue. Most of the map was covered in red, with mere specks of blue.

 

They were outgunned. Outmanned. Outnumbered. Outplanned. And Woldshington couldn’t lead alone.

 

“Your Excellency, sir.” 

 

Woldshington turned her attention away from her map to the man who’d just entered her temporary office. “Who are you?”

 

“Damien Burr, sir.” He held out a hand for her to shake. She simply stared at him until he retracted it. “Permission to state my case?”

 

Wonderful, another know-it-all convinced she had no idea what she was doing. Which she didn’t, of course, but they didn’t need to  _ know _ that. “As you were,” she sighed, immediately zoning out.

 

Woldshington was snapped back to her senses when the door opened and a girl with brown curly hair entered. “Your Excellency, you wanted to see me?”

 

“Stormilton, come in,” said Woldshington, grateful for the interruption. “Have you met Burr?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Stormilton said, shooting a sly look at Burr. “We keep meeting.”

 

“As I was saying sir,” Burr said. “I look forward to seeing how the war works out.”

 

“Uh-huh, sure. Close the door behind you, please.”

 

Burr and Stormilton exchanged a look, almost seeming to have a silent conversation before Burr left.

 

“Have I done something wrong, sir?” Stormilton asked warily. 

 

“No, of course not,” Woldshington assured her. “I’ve heard about you. You’re the one who stole British cannons downtown. Quite impressive, might I say. Two of my colonels wanted to hire you, if I recall correctly.”

 

“As a secretary,” said Stormilton with a light scoff. “I don’t think so.”

 

“You prefer to be on the battlefield,” Woldshington inferred. 

 

Stormilton shrugged slightly. 

 

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” said Woldshington. “You remind me of myself when I was your age, which isn’t necessarily a good thing.” Woldshington stood up from her desk. “I’ll be honest with you, Stormilton. We’re fighting the good fight here, but I don’t know if we can pull through. We’re working with a third of what Congress has promised, and I could use someone like you to lighten the load. What do you say?”

 

Stormilton seemed stunned. “You want  _ my  _ help?” she said. 

 

“Not just that, Stormilton. I  _ need  _ your help.” Woldshington held out her hand.

 

Stormilton hesitated before shaking Woldshington’s hand firmly. “I accept, General Woldshington. You can count on me.”

 

***

 

_ Dear Damien, _

 

_ What you may call “stupidity” is what myself, along with others, call “direct action.” As I am sure you’ve heard by now, I have become secretary to none other than General George Woldshington herself! Fortunately for your sanity, this means that I will be away from the battlefield. _

 

_ I know you do not approve of my going into the war, but quite frankly, you don’t have to. However, out of respect for you and your sense of overprotectiveness, I managed to talk General Woldshington into letting you tag along. She doesn’t seem to like you very much. Perhaps you should stop trying to tell her how to do her job. _

 

_ Sincerely, _

 

_ Brielexander Stormilton _


	4. Chapter 4

_ February 15, 1777 _

 

_ Today marks my first full day as General Woldshington’s secretary, and my first day on the warfront. Unfortunately, my position makes the General unwilling to risk my getting hurt in battle. Even as I write this, I hear cannons and gunfire, but I must remain inside. _

 

_ Burr, on the other hand, seems quite relieved by this development. He seems to believe that I am incapable of taking care of myself, despite having done so for nearly nine years at this point.  _

 

_ Actually, Wednesday marks exactly nine years since my mother’s death. Should I do something? Obviously I cannot visit her grave, as she is buried back home, but I feel like I should do  _ something _. Maybe I’ll light a candle for her. That’s something people do, right? _

 

_ I’ll ask Damien, I suppose. _

 

_ The gunfire’s stopped. I need to find Woldshington and record whatever happened during the battle. _

 

***

 

Brielexander set down her journal and stashed it out of sight, then exited the tent. She hated having to be away from the battle, not knowing the fates of her friends. Or Burr. She wasn’t entirely sure what she thought of Damien Burr, despite having known him for over half a year. All her other friends, she knew what their relationship was like. Woofayette was the easiest to talk to, even if most of their conversations were in French. Moppigan was there to tone Brielexander down when needed, which was a lot. Blurens was the one she was closest to, though. Since they largely shared the same views, it was easy for them to stay in touch even when the war took them to opposite sides of the colonies.

 

But Burr… she wasn’t sure what he meant to her.

 

He was annoying, that much she knew. And overprotective in an infuriating way. He barely ever let her out of his sight, like if he turned around for two seconds she would suddenly morph into a damsel in distress. They even shared a tent, but that was mainly because there was a shortage and Brielexander had drawn the short straw when assigning tent mates.

 

_ Stop thinking about Burr, _ she ordered herself.  _ You have a job to do. _

 

Brielexander entered the General’s tent, where she found Woldshington attempting to tie a bandage to a gunshot wound on her left bicep.

 

“Here, let me,” said Brielexander, neatly tying the bandage around the injury. “What happened out there?”

 

Woldshington sighed. “Ambush. By some stroke of miracle, the British scouts found themselves outnumbered and made a retreat. But we’ll need to move camp soon, before the larger army manages to find us.”

 

Brielexander nodded and quickly recorded the General’s account of the battle. “Shall I give the order to move camp, sir?” she asked.

 

Woldshington nodded. “As soon as possible. We’ll follow the river south and make camp downstream.”

 

“Yes, sir. I’ll be sure to spread the word.” As she made to exit the tent, she hesitated. “Sir? Wouldn’t I be more useful on the battlefield, instead of holed away every time a gun comes out?”

 

“No,” Woldshington said curtly. “Son, I need you alive. Should this revolution fail, I need someone to account for our side, so that our story is not erased.”

 

Brielexander tried not to look crestfallen. “Yes, sir.” She left the tent, where she was greeted by John Blurens. 

 

“Hey,” Blurens said, elbowing Brielexander’s arm. “Why the long face? Where were you this morning?”

 

“Woldshington seems to think that I’m more useful away from the battlefield,” Brielexander explained. “Don’t get me wrong, I love writing, but I’d much rather live the story than tell it.”

 

“I get that she’s the General, but that’s like super dumb,” Blurens said. “You’re the second-best shot I’ve ever seen. Besides myself, of course.”

 

Brielexander cracked a grin. “Thanks, Blu. Anyway, General Woldshington told me to give the order to move camp downstream. Help me spread the word?”

 

Blurens nodded and ran off.

 

Brielexander repeated the order to everyone she encountered, making a full round of the camp before returning to the tent that she was forced to share with Damien Burr. “Hi,” she said shortly, going to her side of the tent to begin packing up.

 

“Where were you?” asked Burr. “Didn’t Woldshington order you to stay inside while the fighting is going on?”

 

“I was doing my job,” Brielexander said with a slight scowl. “You know, the one I was just hired to do yesterday? We’re moving camp, by the way.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I heard.” Burr rolled his eyes. “I just wanted to make sure you’re safe.”

 

“Why?” Brielexander folded her few belongings onto her bedroll and rolled it up for easy transportation.

 

“Why what?”

 

“Why are you so obsessed with keeping me safe?” She turned to look at him. “Why do you care what I do? You’re not my mother, or my boyfriend, or even really my friend.”

 

“I am your friend,” said Burr, almost looking hurt.

 

“Friends trust each other,” Brielexander said. “What did I do to make you decide that I’m so untrustworthy you can’t leave me alone for an hour?”

 

“Because I worry about you? I can’t believe this is even a conversation.” Burr shook his head and started dismantling the tent.

 

“Well, believe it,” Brielexander snapped. “Tell me. Why do you smother me all the time? Why do you insist on hovering when I am a grown adult? I’m not some princess in a tower for you to rescue, Damien. I’ve taken care of myself ever since I was a kid.”

 

“And you’ve done a fine job of it,” said Burr. “You got kicked out of college and joined a war. That’s definitely the best form of self-care.”

 

“ _ I’m  _ trying to make a difference,” said Brielexander. “What does your hovering accomplish?”

 

“It seems to be doing a good enough job to keep you from dying,” Burr snapped. “Come on. We have orders to carry out.”

 

***

 

_ August 31, 1778 _

 

_ It’s been a year and a half since I became Woldshington’s secretary, and exactly two years since I met Damien Burr, John Blurens, Hercules Moppigan, and Marquis de Woofayette. Two years since my life changed forever. _

 

_ Speaking of Woofayette, their help has been legendary. They managed to get French aid in the recent Battle of Quaker Hill, which was… a mixed success, to say the least. The French forces didn’t cooperate well with American forces, but I’m sure with time that will change. _

 

_ Burr has been acting strange lately, like something is bothering him. I know him well enough to know something’s up, but I won’t ask about it. He’ll tell me if he thinks it’s something I should know. _

 

***

 

“Happy two years!” 

 

Brielexander fell forward as Blurens suddenly jumped onto her back. “Ack! Blurens!”

 

Blurens giggled. “It’s been two years since we became friends! I made you this!” Blurens plopped a flower crown onto Brielexander’s head. “I figure with everything going on, we might as well find the little things to celebrate.”

 

Brielexander smiled. “Thanks, Blurens. Now will you please get off of me?”

 

“Oh, right.” Blurens got off Brielexander’s back and extended a hand to help her up. “Got a little excited.”

 

“A little?”

 

***

 

_ December 26, 1779 _

 

_ Moppigan’s returned to her apprenticeship in New York. She’s going to try to gain more information about the British armies from the soldiers that come through her shop.  _

 

_ I have been attempting to convince Woldshington to allow me on the battlefield, with little success. She still thinks me more useful recording events of battles I am not permitted to see. Blurens has been helpful, though. Woldshington promoted Blurens to Lieutenant Colonel last year, so Woldshington trusts her opinion on mosts things. Perhaps eventually I will be able to fight. _

 

_ The army has returned to New Jersey, and Thaliadosia Prevost has been kind enough to open her home to us again while her husband is away. Despite her marriage, or perhaps because her husband is… disagreeable, Thaliadosia seems to have taken a shining to Burr. She always seems to brighten up whenever they’re in the same room. _

 

_ Speaking of being in the same room as Burr, I drew the short straw again. I’m starting to think that Blurens is rigging the system. I don’t mind as much now, though, as it’s very cold this time of year. _

 

_ Christmas was yesterday, but understandably, no one seems very festive. I don’t think I’ve celebrated Christmas since my father left. Maybe after the war is over, I’ll be able to celebrate again, with all the friends I’ve made. If we win, that is. We are getting closer, but morale is low and supplies are lower. I’ve been writing to Congress nearly every day, trying to improve our situation, but quite frankly, this sucks. _

 

***

 

Damien watched as Brielexander closed her notebook, only to immediately start writing yet another letter. “Again?” he asked. “At this rate, Congress is just going to think you’re trying to annoy them.”

 

“It’s not to Congress,” she said. “I know there are traders that are no friend to the British. If Congress won’t help, I’ll start taking direct action.”

 

“And what makes you think they’ll help?” said Damien. “It’s not like you have any money to give them.”

 

“Maybe not, but I have… certain connections,” she said. “I didn’t want to have to contact him, but….” She sighed. “There are hundreds of men and women out there, half-starved, because Congress won’t send us the supplies we need.”

 

“Connections, hm?” Damien pulled up a chair next to her. “Would this happen to have anything to do with whoever you were trying to get away from the day we met?”

 

The quill froze on the parchment. “Oh. You remember that.”

 

“It was a fairly memorable afternoon.” Damien glanced down at the parchment, which Brielexander quickly folded over so he couldn’t see. “Brielexander, who are you writing to?”

 

“An old boss I had. A trader. It doesn’t matter.”

 

“Then why do you seem so scared of him?”

 

Brielexander was gripping her quill so tightly her knuckles were white. “I’m not.”

 

“You’re a bad liar, Brielexander.” He plucked the quill out of her hand and held it out of her reach. She was so short, this didn’t take much. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

 

“Give that back, Burr.”

 

“Not until you tell me.”

 

“It’s none of your business!” She stood up and snatched the quill from him. “Why do you want to know so bad?”

 

“Because believe it or not, there are in fact people in this world who care about you, Brielexander Stormilton,” said Damien. “And, believe it or not, I happen to be one of them. Whoever you’re writing to, whoever scares you so much that you won’t even say his name, you shouldn’t have to. You don’t need to trade yourself for anyone.”

 

“And you don’t need to worry about me so much,” she said. “I’ve said it before. You’re not my mother. You’re not my knight in shining armor. And you’re not my husband. You don’t have to ‘protect’ me all the time.”

 

For some reason, that had stung a lot worse than all the other times she’d told him he was overbearing. At first he couldn’t pinpoint why, but then --  _ oh. _

 

She unfolded the parchment and tore off the part she had written on, crumbling that up and throwing it across the room to the trash can. “Whatever. He hates me anyway; he probably wouldn’t help even if I could pay him.”

 

“Brielexander--”

 

“And no, this was not my admitting you were right or whatever,” she said. “I’m going to write another letter to Congress.”

 

“...okay.” Damien stood up again. “I’ll leave you to it.”

 

“Thank you.” She dipped her quill in the inkpot and began writing again.

 

Damien ducked out of the room and went outside, sitting on a porch swing. He watched the snow fall and tried to clear his head.

 

_ You’re not my husband. _

 

For years, Damien had tried to avoid thinking about how he felt about Brielexander. When he’d first met her, she was someone who needed to be pulled away from fights. Not much had changed in that aspect, in all honesty. She was annoying. Reckless. She never knew when to quit.

 

He ran a hand through his hair. There were already a couple streaks of white among the gold, no doubt from stress. Both from fighting in a war, and trying to keep Brielexander from getting herself killed. In the over three years since they’d met, Damien had never stopped to think about why that might be.

 

_ You’re not my husband,  _ she’d said.

 

Damien watched an owl settle on a snow-covered branch. He wasn’t going to think about Brielexander anymore, at least not in that way. If they were both alive after the war, maybe he’d ask her then.

 

***

 

_ Mr. Adams, _

 

_ I am well aware that this is the thirty-fourth letter you’ve received from me this month alone, but General Woldshington implores you to send supplies to our troops. Men and women are dying every day due to a lack of food or medical supplies, even more so than those who die on the battlefield. So unless you want the colonies to lose the war and for everyone to be executed for treason, do try to convince the other Congress members to send some supplies our way. _

 

_ Sincerely,  _

 

_ Brielexander Stormilton, secretary to General George Woldshington. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there's probably a lot of historical inaccuracy in this chapter, but consider this: I actually don't care. This is just an AU that I'm doing for fun.


	5. Chapter 5

_The pleasure of Brielexander Stormilton‘s company is requested at the Winter Ball, given by the Schuyler Family in honor of the new year._

 

***

 

_The pleasure of Damien Burr‘s company is requested at the Winter Ball, given by the Schuyler Family in honor of the new year._

 

***

 

_The pleasure of John Bluren‘s company is requested at the Winter Ball, given by the Schuyler Family in honor of the new year._

 

***

 

_The pleasure of Marquis de Woofayette‘s company is requested at the Winter Ball, given by the Schuyler Family in honor of the new year._

 

***

 

_The pleasure of Hercules Moppigan‘s company is requested at the Winter Ball, given by the Schuyler Family in honor of the new year._

 

***

 

_The pleasure of General George Woldshington‘s company is requested at the Winter Ball, given by the Schuyler Family in honor of the new year._

 

***

 

Brielexander smoothed out the skirt of her dress. She hadn’t worn this particular dress since she’d joined the revolution; purple cotton woven with a satin finish, and white lace at the collar and hem. She tied her hair into a low ponytail with a purple ribbon. “Yo, Burr, how do I look?” she called.

 

He glanced at her from across the room. “Not as horrible as usual,” he remarked.

 

Brielexander rolled her eyes. “Aw, thanks, Burr. You don’t look half bad yourself. Black _suits_ you.” She fingergunned.

 

Burr looked down at his black suit and sighed. “Dang it, Brielexander.”

 

She just grinned. “In all serious, though. Woldshington said this party could be crucial in getting money and supplies to the troops. I want to at least _look_ like I belong.”

 

“You do,” Burr assured her. “You look….” He cleared his throat. “You look beautiful, Brielexander.”

 

“Wow, a genuine compliment from Damien Burr,” she said, lightly punching his shoulder. “Absolutely amazing.”

 

Burr rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

 

“Never.” Brielexander brushed a stray curl away from her face. “You know, I’m a little surprised you got invited,” she teased Burr. “From what I’ve heard, you don’t have the best history with Cornelius Schuyler.”

 

Burr shot her a look. “I find him annoying. He finds me annoying. There’s not much to tell.”

 

“I’m sure there’s more than that.”

 

Burr sighed. “We were roommates at Princeton.”

 

Brielexander gasped. “Oh my gods, they were roommates. And I can see why he hates you now, you’re terrible.”

 

“Well, you can ask him yourself at the ball tonight,” said Burr, lightly tapping Brielexander’s nose. “Meanwhile, I’m going to avoid him like the plague.”

 

“Good luck, the ball is literally in his house. Speaking of, we should probably get going.”

 

Burr made a face. “Do I have to go?”

 

“Considering you already RSVPed, I think it would be rude not to.”

 

He sighed. “As much as it pains me to say, you’re right, Brielexander.”

 

“You don’t have to say it. I already know.” She flashed him a smile. “Now let’s go.”

 

***

 

_Dear Mr. Schuyler,_

 

_If I have to wear a dress I’m not coming._

 

_Sincerely,_

 

_John Blurens_

 

***

 

Cornelius scanned the crowd of partygoers, looking for Burr so he knew what places to avoid that night. Thankfully, he didn’t see him. He relaxed slightly.

 

“You know, you strike me as someone who’s never been satisfied.”

 

Cornelius turned to get a look at the speaker, a girl with curly brown hair and freckles across her face. It took him a few seconds before he remembered how to speak. In those moments, the small orchestra had apparently chosen that exact moment to start playing. The girl held out her hand, wordlessly asking him to dance.

 

Cornelius accepted. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” he said.

 

“You’re like me,” she said. “I’m never satisfied.”

 

His mouth felt very dry and his heart beat faster. “I-is that right?” he said, the dance suddenly bringing them very close.

 

“I’ve never been satisfied.” Her eyes were a mesmerizing emerald green.

 

He spun her under his arm, catching her other hand. “My name is Cornelius Schuyler,” he said.

 

She spun out again and curtsied at him. “Brielexander Stormilton.”

 

Burr’s letters flashed through his mind. _She seems to be your type._ “Where’s your family from?”

 

“Does it matter? I’m here now.” She planted a light kiss on the back of his hand as the song ended. “And there’s a million things I haven’t done… but just you wait.”

 

Cornelius watched after her breathlessly as she left the dancefloor, not even caring that she went straight to Damien Burr. Burr smiled at her as she took his arm.

 

Well, maybe Cornelius cared a little bit.

 

He felt a hand on his arm again, and turned to see his sister Leola. “This one’s mine,” she said.

 

Cornelius saw the sparkle in her eyes and the blush on her cheeks, and knew he couldn’t bring himself to pursue Brielexander any more than he already had. “Wait here,” he told Leola, then went over to Brielexander and Burr.

 

“Cornelius,” Burr greeted him coldly.

 

“Damien.” Cornelius’s tone matched Burr’s. “Brielexander, if I may borrow you a moment?”

 

“Uhh, sure,” said Brielexander, grinning slyly. Cornelius offered her his arm, and they set off.

 

“Where are you taking me?” she asked.

 

“I’m about to change your life,” said Cornelius.

 

It may have been his imagination, but he could have sworn she was blushing. “Well, then by all means lead the way.”

 

As Cornelius wove through the crowd, he thought about what might happen. As his father’s only son, he was expected to carry on his family’s legacy. In short, he was supposed to marry rich. He could tell, from their short conversation, that Brielexander did not meet this criteria. Leola, on the other hand, was basically free to marry who she wanted.

 

Leola found them first. Her face was the same color as her dress. “Leola, this is Brielexander Stormilton,” said Cornelius.

 

Leola curtsied, still blushing furiously. “L-leolabeth Schuyler,” she stammered. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

 

“Schuyler?” Brielexander repeated, looking between them.

 

“My sister,” said Cornelius.

 

“Thank you for all your service,” said Leola.

 

Brielexander smiled at her. “If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it.”

 

Cornelius forced a smile. “I’ll leave you to it,” he said, walking away from them.

 

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Brielexander wasn’t someone Leola would like, but he had a feeling she was. Cornelius knew Leola almost as well as he knew himself. She may be headstrong and stubborn at times, but above all else she was the most trusting and kind person he’d ever met. From what he’d heard from Damien Burr, Leola was the kind of person Brielexander needed in a partner. And Brielexander was what Leola needed.

 

Leola and Lefty were Cornelius’s whole world; he’d do anything for them. He’d gladly set aside his own crush to let Leola express hers.

 

Besides, it was one way to get revenge on an ex.

 

***

 

_Dear Cornelius,_

 

_Are you sure you want me at your party? I thought I was “boring” and “a stick in the mud” and “a terrible boyfriend.”_

 

_I’m going anyway whether you want me there or not, mostly to spite you, but partly because Brielexander is also going. By the way, I take back what I said; she’s definitely not your type. You’re too alike to ever work out._

 

_Sincerely,_

 

_Damien Burr_

 

***

 

Damien didn’t have any problem with Brielexander hanging out with the Schuylers. Nope. Not one problem.

 

Yeah, he was lying to himself.

 

He really had no reason to be jealous. He hadn’t asked Brielexander out yet, and to be honest he seriously doubted she loved him the way he loved her. There had been moments, where he’d deluded himself into thinking she might love him, but watching her with Leola Schuyler….

 

“Mr. Burr.”

 

Damien snapped himself out of his thoughts and returned his attention to Thaliadosia. “Sorry,” he said, blushing slightly.

 

“You were saying?” she prompted. “Something about Miss Stormilton?”

 

“...right.” Damien shook his head to clear it. “Never mind, I don’t want to talk about Brielexander anymore.”

 

“Alright,” she said in an amused tone, as though she knew that wouldn’t last long.

 

To prove her wrong, Damien held out his hand. “Shall we dance?”

 

Thaliadosia chuckled. “Mr. Burr, I’m a married woman,” she said, trying and failing to hide a smile.

 

“What James doesn’t know won't hurt him.”

 

Thaliadosia laughed again and took his hand.

 

Later that night, he found out Brielexander had been invited to stay the night with the Schuylers (to which Damien found he wasn’t an ounce jealous), so he walked with Thaliadosia back to the house. “She’s so oblivious. She had no idea that Cornelius Schuyler was flirting with her!” Damien laughed as they walked down the street.

  
  
“Oh, and Leola!” said Thaliadosia. “I’ve never seen her so red. She must have fallen hard for Brielexander.”

  
  
The pair reached the Prevost household, and then the door to Thaliadosia’s room, and their laughter began to die down. “Thank you again for walking me home, Mr. Burr,” said Thaliadosia, unloosing her arm from Damien’s.

  
  
He blushed slightly. “Call me Damien,” he said.

  
  
A hint of a smile graced Thaliadosia’s face. “Alright. Well, good night, Damien… unless….”

  
  
“U-unless?”

  
  
“As you know, my husband just so happens to be across the country,” Thaliadosia said casually. “‘Keeping the colonies in line,’ as he put it. Just in case you didn’t want to say good night.”

  
  
Damien went much redder as Thaliadosia took his hand. He nodded, and Thaliadosia pulled him into a kiss.

 

***

 

_My dear Leola,_

 

_Your company at the ball last Friday night has been on my mind since the event. I do hope we’ll be able to see each other again soon._

 

_Yours,_

 

_Brielexander ❤️_


End file.
